A Penny for Your Thoughts
by Little Boy of Lothering
Summary: Sam takes too many things personally, and that includes insults his brother throws when he's possessed. Dean just wants something in their lives to go right for once. Tag to 8x06 "Southern Comfort." Part of the Remove All the Pieces series.


Another prompt fill from ff. Basically, the person wanted an adjustment in the Southern Comfort fight since there were no Amelia and their relationship isn't completely shot.

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"A Penny for Your Thoughts"

"It's nothing, Dean. You were possessed."

"Dude, I don't remember anything. You've gotta give me something to work with."

"Like I said, it's nothing."

It takes real effort for Dean not to groan because he's trying not to freak out and Sammy's not making it any easier. When he snapped out of it, Sam's nose was bleeding and he'd flinched pretty bad when he went to touch him, but he knows from experience that _this_ reaction is from more than a physical fight. And medicated or not, his brother still has trouble getting what Dean says vs. what he actually means through his head - a general side effect of the Devil in his head for about two years. Sure, it'd taken him a few weeks to get back into the swing of things but same as after Hell, he eventually figured it out; this is sending up all the worst warning signs.

Because for Sam, possessed doesn't mean shit. For all Dean knows, he might not even know that fight - whatever it was - actually happened.

With a sigh, he tells his brother, "Wait here."

Sam grabs onto his sleeve even though it wouldn't have been hard to snag his wrist. Awesome. "It's fine," he says. "Seriously. You were possessed."

Slipping away from the grip isn't too hard and he just repeats, "Wait here," before disappearing inside without a knock. Garth is where they left him, drinking a wine cooler and rubbing his temple. Dean finds most people tend to react that way to spending an extended amount of time with them.

He looks when he enters. "I thought Sam said you were leaving."

"Uh, we are," he answers, feeling awkward and uncomfortable. He knows he can hurt his brother faster than just about anyone else in the world because he's done it before, but not remembering what he did is new. Sam's the same way and they can both be the biggest idiots in existence, but they usually make it up to each other. "Look, thanks for burning the penny and all, but I have no idea what happened and Sam's not telling me."

Putting their bullshit on someone else isn't exactly the ideal solution to anything, but he's not seeing another option. At least Garth doesn't seem to mind. "We'll, you hit him pretty hard," he says, taking around pull of the wine cooler. Dean never thought he'd meet another guy hunter a bigger lightweight than Sam and on normal occasion, he finds it hilarious. Now's not exactly normal. "And, well, you kind of said some stuff I didn't really get, but something about drinking demon blood and some chick named Ruby, running around soulless and not telling you, and, uh, well...cracking up while you were gone. Did he really drink demon blood? That's kind of gross."

Fuck, he thinks, because yeah, sure, sometimes he thinks about the Ruby and demon blood train wreck, but the rest? He'd spent a year and a half trying to convince his brother that nothing he did while soulless counted because _it wasn't his fault_. And he's been back four months and the thought of blaming Sam for breaking apart in the head region hadn't even crossed his mind. The moment he found out that Cas wasn't nuts in Purgatory, he'd been afraid the switch would reverse, but he'd had to put it aside until he actually got out. God, he thought he'd made a smart decision to medicate himself and he just _blamed_ him for it? He hates possession with a passion, and maybe even himself, too.

Actually, make that a definitely. He doesn't think he's felt this low since they burned Bobby's flask.

"Thanks, man," he says, working to keep himself in check because he's so damn pissed at himself it's ridiculous. "And no," he adds, but he can't think up a good enough lie so it ends with, "It's - just a long story."

Garth nods, a little confused. "Right," he says. "Just, is Sam going to be all right? Never saw anyone react to a hug like that before."

"He's not too good with the physical contact thing," he half-lies again because explaining would mean basically spilling their whole life story. His brother didn't exactly have good experiences when it came to touch, and he knows it's only gotten worse. "Son of a bitch, this is going to suck. Anyway, we better head out. Call us if anything comes up, I guess."

Mr. Fizzles (he'll never get over the fact that there's a hunter who uses a sock puppet, even if it does work sometimes) agrees and Dean leaves, totally not wanting a strong drink except that he does at the same but alcohol detox in Purgatory was just no. Besides, he's pretty Sam might kill him and he's not in the mood to deal with anything else that could set his brother off right now. Said brother who just slipped into the car and crossed his arms like that was going to prevent them from talking. For whatever reason, the past year made him more open to chick-flick moments, or maybe it's just from the realization that actively avoiding them when Sammy was nuts the first time around hadn't helped.

As he slips into the driver's seat, Sam lowers his eyes and he gets it; this conversation's going to be awful for both them. And this wasn't the sort of thing they could solve by killing it either and the thing's already dead anyway, so enacting revenge isn't exactly doable either.

"You want me to pull over on the side of the road or find a motel first?" he asks as he backs out. If it were up to him, he'd just get it over and done with now instead of stressing about it, but he's not doing it with Garth so close by.

Sam answers, "Motel," so quietly he barely hears him. So much for pretending to be "fine" as he usual tries. It's actually something of a relief.

Ten minutes later and they're pulling into a nicer motel than usual, but that already feels too long and Dean's not driving around more than he has to. Though the clerk gives Sam a weird looking because of the bruise on the side of his face, she doesn't comment, just gives them the room key and goes back to reading one of those magazines that typically exist in waiting rooms for bored mothers stuck outside the office. It's the second floor but adjacent to a fire escape so he isn't complaining.

After they drop their bags on the bed closest to the door, Dean figures it's time to bite the bullet and says, "I asked Garth what happened."

"I figured. And it's fine," his brother answers. "You were possessed."

But it's _not_ fine and that's the problem. And it might never be fine if he doesn't clear that up because he knows the way Sam's mind works, and he'll be replaying whatever the exact wording was over and over until he starts getting nightmares about it. Dean figures it's also probably a good idea to patch this up before Lucifer makes a reappearance because he's not an idiot and knows it'll happen eventually. He's heard before from other hunters, how djinn poison can leave permanent mental scarring and that's on _normal_ people.

That doesn't make this any easier. "You know I didn't mean it right?" he says. "Any of it."

"You don't need - I get it." Sam's still not looking at him.

"No, you don't, Sam. Clean slate, remember?"

"But -"

He grabs his brother's shoulders, forcing him to stop and finally fucking _look_. "Do you really think I spent a year and a half drilling into your head that what you did soulless wasn't your fault to be _nice_?" he asks, wondering for not the first time where Sam ended up with that, for lack of a better word, disconnect in his brain that makes it so damn hard to get through his head that not everyone in the world hates him - including Dean. "And I don't blame you for a djinn touching you. I kind of figured something like that would happen because Winchesters have shit luck, but you got yourself help. That's a better call I would've made."

"But Ruby -"

"Manipulated you when I was dead, Sam! And it's been four years. I wasn't joking about the clean slate."

Again, Sam drops his eyes and mumbles, "Okay," before Dean gives up and pulls him into a hug, figuring that if he didn't freak when he touched his shoulders, he'd be fine with this. After a tense moment, he is, and relaxes into it, even hugging back. "Clean slate," he repeats quietly.

"Yeah. You gotta believe me, Sammy."

His brother pulls back, which is his way of saying _that's the most I can take_ before he tells him, "I going to go take a shower."

"Just keep the door open, okay? And…should if you need anything."

Sam nods and disappears inside, making sure the door is unlatched. Dean takes a seat on the bed, slips off his jacket and loosening his tie, and decides it's pretty safe to say he wish he had a time machine.

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So, this isn't my best. At all. I'm actually kind of ashamed and wouldn't have published it if it weren't a request (sorry!).


End file.
